Say, Pal
by animatedrose
Summary: "Say, pal, you don't look so good." "No surprise. Everything that happens to me is all your fault, anyway." "And I have so much fun causing you such misery. What a wonderful little plaything you are." "I hate you." "I know." Just a bunch of drabbles revolving around Wilson and Maxwell.


Just some random drabbles I came up with. As the title and summary says, it revolves around the usage of the phrase, "Say, pal, you don't look so good." Because it's an awesome phrase and it is so taunting coming from Maxwell, sexy demon dude that he is.

Yes, I'm in love with Maxwell. Get over it. :P

Ideas for events that could herald a meeting between Wilson and Maxwell, along with the usage of the above phrase, are welcome. I already have the last drabble for this little mini-series of drabbles planned. Probably obvious as to what it is but on the off-chance it isn't…

Anyway, enjoy yet more of my random Don't Starve junk! :3

Don't Starve: Say, Pal…

Chapter 1: First Encounter

His head hurt.

That was the first thing Wilson was aware of. The pounding pain in his head jarred him awake, making him groan. What had…happened?

_I was at home… I had just failed at another experiment…_

Wilson struggled to organize his thoughts. It was like wading through mud—it was slow going, but at least he was getting somewhere.

Images came to mind—his cabin, beakers, chemicals, an explosion, sitting in his chair, the radio…

_The radio!_

That's right! There had been a voice over the radio! A voice promising knowledge, secret knowledge. It had given him that knowledge and…had him build something…

_That confounded machine!_

A tall machine came to mind, following by a mechanical face that laughed. A laugh that mimicked the one coming over the radio when…shadowy hands rose from the floor…and dragged Wilson down to…

_Where am I?_

Struggling to sit up, he yelped as he fell back again. His head hurt, like someone had shoved a bowling ball into his skull. Was it from gaining that secret knowledge?

Though Wilson highly doubted it was true knowledge. It was just a trap. But…why?

_You should've questioned it. It was a voice over the radio! Why did you trust it? You let it scare you! You should've said no, should've never flipped that switch! Why? Why did you flip it? You knew something bad would happen yet you let a VOICE bully you! Why, Wilson, why?!_

Shaking off the pain, the scientist slowly sat up. The pain in his head was beginning to dull now, dying off into a faint throb. At least he could sit up now.

Then he saw his surroundings.

_Oh God, where did those hands take me?_

He was in…some kind of forest. It was full of evergreen trees and saplings and berry bushes. He could see flowers here and there, along with butterflies and bees. A sprout nearby looked very much like the top of a carrot.

_I'm definitely not at home,_ Wilson decided.

"Say, pal," a voice from behind him drawled. "You don't look so good."

_That voice!_ Wilson realized, whipping around…and promptly falling flat on his face, headache returning full force. "Ugh…" he groaned in agony.

"Tch! You _definitely_ don't look so good. Poor thing," the voice chuckled lightly.

_It's the voice…from the radio,_ Wilson thought as he struggled to sit up again. _But…why? Has he come here to torment me?_

The heavy scent of tobacco hit his nose, causing it to scrunch. Wilson never liked tobacco much. It messed with your mind and imbalanced your brain. That was no good to a perfectly scientific intellect, such as his. No, no, tobacco was not for him. Even the _scent_ of it made him feel ill.

"What's wrong? Can't even get up, Higgsbury?" the voice taunted.

A shoe nudged Wilson's shoulder, prodding him experimentally. When Wilson groaned, pulling away to curl up on the grass, the shoe withdrew.

_This guy…knows my name,_ Wilson realized. _How? Why?_

"If you can't even handle a bit of a headache, you won't last long here," the voice commented. "…But that's no fun. Let me help you a little."

The voice snapped its fingers. Wilson froze at the sudden loud noise, frightened. Then he realized something.

His headache was _gone_.

"There! Better?" the voice asked. "It's no fun if you die on the first night simply because you've got a headache. Though, don't expect this type of help very often. I'm not _that_ kind."

"Who…are you?" Wilson ground out as he pulled himself onto his hands and knees.

"Me? My name is Maxwell," the voice replied.

Wilson looked up, finally placing a face to the name that caused him all this misery. It was a tall man in a suit with a long, angular face and a mouth that seemed to grin cruelly at him. Dark eyes watched his every move, like a vulture watching its soon-to-be meal's last moves. A smoking cigar was held in one hand, the tip glowing brightly.

"But that's not important at the moment," Maxwell continued. "What _is_ important are your resources, which you have none of. You'd best find some food before nightfall comes. You'll regret it if you don't."

"Where am I? Why am I here? What…" Wilson struggled to his feet, staggering toward Maxwell angrily. "What did you do?!"

"What did _I_ do? On the contrary, Higgsbury," Maxwell chuckled darkly, taking a step back. "What did _you_ do?"

Wilson froze. _What…did I do? What does that even mean? I did nothing! You brought me here!_

Maxwell lifted his cigar to his lips, taking another step back. "Have fun. Do as I told you. And most of all…don't starve."

With that, a pool of inky black darkness erupted below Maxwell's feet. Wilson yelped, jumping back in terror. That fear increased tenfold when Maxwell abruptly fell into that darkness, vanishing from sight. The shadows pulled in on themselves and disappeared with a quick popping noise.

There was no sign of Maxwell left.

Wilson stared at the ground before looking around, frightened. _Don't starve, eh? I…think I can manage that… I hope…_


End file.
